


And the Living is Easy

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on.  It’s summer.  Let’s go do something summery.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Living is Easy

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [And the Living is Easy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9321530) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



> set in the early summer after 2x22 “New York” but only small spoilers for the episode

“Please tell me you are joking,” Kurt said, gaping at him across the Hummel-Hudson kitchen like Blaine had utterly and completely lost his mind.

“Joking about having some lemonade?” Blaine asked slowly.

“Yes.”

Blaine considered the way Kurt was clutching the pitcher to his chest, the perfectly normal glass pitcher filled with the probably very refreshing lemonade they had just finished making from scratch. “Um. No, I don’t think I’m joking about wanting a glass of lemonade. That’s pretty much why we made it, right? To drink it?”

“Of course we made it to drink it,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. “But it isn’t ready yet.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. Now it has to get _cold_. Otherwise the ratio of the sweetness of the sugar to the tartness of the lemon juice will be off. Cold things taste less sweet, so you have to put more sugar in them.” Kurt opened his refrigerator and placed the pitcher inside. “It will take a few hours to reach the right temperature.”

Blaine asked the obvious question. “Why can’t we just use ice?”

Kurt spun to fix him with as determined of a glare as he would have if Blaine had suggested that they go shopping for a few basics at Target. (Blaine would not make this mistake again, even if he thought the t-shirts they sold were just fine.) “Blaine. You do not put ice in lemonade.”

“You don’t?”

“No. As it melts it waters down the drink, and then the lemonade tastes like something you make with one of those little yellow packets.”

“You’re never going to let me live down that idea, are you,” Blaine said.

Shaking his head, Kurt replied, “Nope. But you’ll be ashamed of yourself, too, when you taste our real lemonade.”

“Okay, okay.” Blaine put his hands up in surrender and stifled an unexpected yawn. “I believe you. We will wait for the lemonade.”

“It will be worth it,” Kurt promised.

Blaine smiled at him and took a step closer, leaning his hip on the counter beside him. “So many things are.” He realized that didn’t make a lot of sense outside of his head, so he explained, “Worth it. The wait. Like you.” He winced at his complete lack of smoothness and waited for Kurt to laugh at him.

Instead of laughing, Kurt leaned in and gave him a soft, quick kiss. “You must be very tired,” he said, searching Blaine’s face.

Blaine sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It’s a lot of shows and not enough time off. I thought summers were supposed to be restful.”

“We’ll rest now. We can put on a movie you don’t like, and you can fall asleep on the sofa while pretending to watch it. If you ask extra nicely, I’ll let you put your head in my lap.” It was an empty tease, since they both knew how much Kurt liked petting Blaine’s hair.

“Tempting.” Blaine could feel the plump cushions of the sofa and Kurt’s gentle fingers calling to him, but when he glanced out of the kitchen window he was struck with an even better idea. “Hey, is that a hammock?”

“Yes,” Kurt replied without much enthusiasm. “My dad and Finn put it up this weekend.”

“It’s really big.”

“It’s made for two people.”

“And it has pillows.” They were bright yellow and looked almost as comfortable as the ones on the sofa.

“Carole bought those.” Kurt took a step back. “Oh, no. No. You are not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

Blaine followed after him, grabbing Kurt’s hand. “Come on, Kurt. Let’s go nap in the hammock.”

“But it’s outside.”

“It’s in the shade.”

“So is the sofa!”

Blaine tugged a little. “Come on. It’s summer. Let’s go do something summery.”

Kurt looked unconvinced, but when he glanced down at his clothes Blaine knew he’d won. He did a mental victory dance but kept his face composed.

“Fine,” Kurt finally said with a sigh. “But I am not going to risk getting grass stains on Marc Jacobs’ summer line.”

“There’s no grass in the hammock,” Blaine reminded him.

“No, but there is grass beneath it,” Kurt said, “and I am fairly certain that you will manage to tip us out of it at least once this afternoon.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I am very coordinated.”

Kurt laughed and shook his head. “It’s not quite the same as jumping on a table. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Upon reflection, Blaine realized that Kurt’s predictions about tumbling out of the hammock might actually be true given his current state of fatigue, so he headed outside to try to get settled on it without making a fool of himself in front of his boyfriend.

The sticky summer air hit him like a smack in the face as soon as he stepped outside, but there was enough of a breeze that in the shade it was actually pretty pleasant if you didn’t have to do anything. He toed off his flip-flops, placing them out of the way so that Kurt wouldn’t be tempted to live up to his threat to burn them, and gingerly sank onto the hammock. It swayed alarmingly and threatened to tip over, but somehow he managed to get himself situated with his head one one of the very comfortable pillows without falling. He let out a happy sigh and gazed up at the leafy canopy above him shielding him from the clear blue sky.

He glanced over when he heard the door open and was treated to a view of Kurt looking almost _casual_. His mouth went dry at the sight of Kurt’s long legs bared by a pair of crisp khaki cargo shorts, and the white t-shirt strained across Kurt’s chest just enough that Blaine knew it had to be old and so soft it begged to be touched. It wasn’t fair; Blaine almost always felt outclassed by Kurt’s wardrobe, but even when wearing pretty much exactly the same sort of clothing Kurt still outshone him. Not that he was really complaining, but it was weird to realize he wasn’t the well-put-together person he’d thought he was.

Kurt winced behind his sunglasses as he stepped into the sunlight, and he shielded his face with the paperback book he held in his hand.

“It’s really nice in the shade,” Blaine called to forestall any of Kurt’s complaints. He wasn’t going to attempt to get off of the hammock if he didn’t have to, if only because Kurt being sick with laughter wasn’t exactly going to help Blaine reach his goals, but his fingers twitched with the desire to see if that shirt was as soft as it looked.

“The things I do for love,” Kurt muttered just loudly enough that Blaine was able to hear him, but he still came over to the hammock.

“I thought we were napping,” Blaine said, gesturing to the book.

“I’m not tired. You nap; I’ll read.”

“Okay.” Blaine braced himself and surreptitiously threaded his fingers through the mesh of the hammock as Kurt slipped off his sandals and prepared to get in beside him.

Of course, the damn thing hardly swayed as Kurt rolled onto it, and if they were pressed together from shoulder to knee by gravity and the curve of the material neither of them seemed to mind in the least.

“Hi,” Blaine said softly, turning his head to look into Kurt’s face.

Kurt smiled at him. “Hi.”

This close, Blaine could see Kurt’s eyes behind his glasses, and the part of his arm that brushed against Kurt’s side could feel the lean muscles of his torso beneath the, yes, very soft and touchable shirt. Blaine’s heart began to pound.

“Hi,” he said again.

“You’re supposed to be napping,” Kurt reminded him.

“You’re distracting.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re always distracting.” It was the truth and had been since long before they’d started dating.

Kurt laughed softly and shook his head. “Close your eyes, Blaine. Take a nap.” He shifted a little, lifting his book and opening it to read. “I can distract you some more when you wake up.”

That made enough sense that Blane said, “Okay.”

Blaine must have been really tired, because the next thing he knew he was drifting out of a very pleasant dream where he’d been a zebra trying to organize a pride of lions into being his backing singers. They were having trouble getting the harmonies right, but at least they were trying. Light and shadows flickered through his closed eyelids, and he opened them without much urgency. The tree above him swam into focus, and when he tried to move his cramped and sticky left arm he realized that it was trapped between his body and Kurt’s arm. Their fingers were threaded loosely together. Blaine lost the desire to move an inch.

He glanced over to find Kurt asleep beside him, his book propped open on his stomach. Kurt’s face was tipped toward him, and if his fair skin was flushed from the heat he also looked incredibly peaceful. Kurt was usually so animated, and even with Blaine he nearly always seemed to be aware of every part of himself, but asleep he was soft and vulnerable in a way he almost never allowed while awake. His eyebrows, his mouth, even his jaw were relaxed. Blaine drank him in, loving this part of him as much as all of the rest. He felt lazy and warm, filled with joy at being able to look all he wanted without having to worry about Kurt being uncomfortable with it.

Soon, though, a loud truck rumbled through the neighborhood, and Kurt stirred beside him.

“Shh,” Blaine whispered, but the damage was done.

“I’m up,” Kurt mumbled, trying to get purchase on the wobbling hammock to push himself to a sitting position with his eyes still closed. “I’ll make the egg-white omelets.”

“No. Kurt, no. Lie back. You don’t have to go anywhere.” When Blaine tugged him back down, Kurt followed.

“Blaine?” Kurt blinked awake and pushed his sunglasses up, mussing his hair. “What? Oh. That’s right; your nap.”

“Yours, too, apparently.”

“I guess so.” Kurt rubbed his eyes. “Ugh. It’s hot.”

“ _You’re_ hot,” Blaine told him.

“Of course I’m hot. It’s over eight-five degrees out here.” Then he looked into Blaine’s eyes and said, “Oh.”

Blaine just smiled at him and brought their still-entwined hands up to his mouth to kiss the backs of Kurt’s fingers.

They were close enough that Blaine could hear Kurt’s shaky inhalation, and he pressed a soft kiss at the base of Kurt’s thumb just to watch his eyes widen.

“And you call _me_ distracting,” Kurt said weakly.

Blaine slid his calf along Kurt’s, and they both shivered with the sensation of coarse hair moving against slightly tacky skin. Their bare feet touched, and how had Blaine never realized that feet could be such a turn-on?

“We should go inside,” Kurt said.

“Why?” Blaine asked, his mouth against the inside of Kurt’s wrist.

“It’s hot.”

“So?”

“So I’m going to enjoy myself a lot more if I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out from heat exhaustion.”

Blaine looked at him, gauging the seriousness in his eyes, and then started to laugh helplessly. “Has anyone told you you’re kind of dramatic?” He kissed Kurt’s hand again to show there was absolutely no bite behind the words.

“Every day of my life,” Kurt said with a slightly self-conscious grin.

“I love it.” Blaine leaned in and kissed him before flipping himself off of the hammock. Somehow he managed to end up on his feet, not that Kurt noticed, because he was too busy clinging to the fabric as it swayed wildly.

“A little warning, Blaine? I could have gotten off first and saved myself the motion sickness.”

“No, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Kurt glared at him but lay back as Blaine headed into the kitchen. He grabbed the lemonade from the fridge and a couple of glasses. When he glanced out of the window to see his boyfriend stretched out languidly on the hammock, he filled another glass with ice and somehow managed not to drop anything on the way back.

“Has it been long enough?” Kurt asked when he saw what Blaine was carrying.

“Two hours.” Blaine set the lemonade and empty glasses on the ground.

“That should be all right.” Kurt’s eyes narrowed. “I said no ice.”

“You said no ice for the lemonade.” Blaine gingerly edged back onto the hammock, holding his breath until he was settled on his side facing Kurt.

“Right...” Kurt eyed the cup.

“You didn’t say anything about ice for you.”

Patented “You Must Be Certifiably Insane” Look Number Three appeared on Kurt’s face. “What are you - ?”

“Shh.” Blaine pulled an ice cube out of the cup and slid it across Kurt’s temple. “You said you were hot.”

Kurt let out a breathy sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. “That shouldn’t feel good,” he said.

“But it does.” Blaine drew the ice down Kurt’s cheek and along his jaw.

“Yeah.” Kurt swallowed audibly as Blaine moved the cube down his throat and around to the back of his neck. Kurt gasped when Blaine cupped his hand there and didn’t move away. “That’s amazing.”

“I know,” Blaine said, and because it was right there in front of him he pressed his mouth to Kurt’s jaw where the ice had so recently been. The combination of cool water and warm flesh made his head spin, and apparently Kurt liked it, too, if the hand that came up to clench in Blaine’s shirt was any indication.

“This is not - “ Kurt broke off as Blaine slipped the ice just beneath his collar and down an inch or two along his spine.

“This is not what?” Blaine asked. His voice sounded thick and husky to his own ears.

“This is not helping me cool off.”

“Maybe I should try a different one.” Blaine dropped the remaining sliver of ice onto the ground and fished another cube out of the glass. Smiling at Kurt, he touched it to Kurt’s chin and dragged it with aching slowness down his throat and into the hollow between his collarbones. He watched the water pool there for a few seconds before slipping his fingers under the collar of Kurt’s shirt and spreading the moisture along those tempting sweeps of bone hidden beneath the cotton.

“Any cooler?” Blaine asked.

“Not really,” Kurt admitted hoarsely.

“Hmm.” Blaine got a new piece of ice and held it carefully as he inched up the hem of Kurt’s shirt. Usually he had so many layers of clothing to get through to reach Kurt’s skin that it was a heady novelty to be able to touch him so freely. Just seeing Kurt’s flat stomach made his pulse race. He wondered if this was Victorians felt like, being turned on by a glimpse of a shapely ankle.

“How about this?” he asked, sliding his hand upward. The muscles there twitched and tightened beneath Blaine’s ice-filled palm, and if they’d been somewhere more stable he would have been unable to stop himself from following that same path with his mouth.

“Oh, my god,” Kurt whispered before tangling his fingers in Blaine’s hair and dragging him in for a bruising kiss.

Blaine lost the cup almost immediately, but he was so far from caring that caring was on a different continent. The hammock made maneuvering difficult, but once he tucked himself against Kurt’s side with his leg draped over Kurt’s and his hand cupping Kurt’s jaw he didn’t have any interest in moving away, anyway. Kurt had one hand fisted in the back of Blaine’s shirt and the other in his hair, and the gentle undulations of his body as they kissed made the hammock sway with them.

Everything felt warm and wonderful. Blaine could barely lift his mouth from Kurt’s lips and skin to draw a breath, so badly did he need to be kissing him. It was too hot for things to get too urgent, but the thick air made every touch linger and every gasp ring in their ears.

“I could do this with you forever,” Blaine murmured against Kurt’s jaw before he realized what he was saying. He meant it about the kissing, but it was true about so much more. He tried not to freeze at the enormity of the thought. He knew they were young and a lot was going to change for them over the years, and maybe his brain was scrambled by the heat and by _Kurt_ , but right at that moment he meant it about everything.

Kurt smoothed his hand down Blaine’s back. “I know,” he said softly. “Me, too.” When Blaine met his eyes, Kurt was smiling. His mouth was barely curved, but his eyes were filled with promise.

Blaine had to kiss him again, deeply and forcefully, and when he dragged his hand over Kurt’s clothed chest and down his bare stomach Kurt moaned so loudly that they broke apart with the shock of it.

“Sorry,” Kurt said, flushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Blaine told him. “Please, Kurt, don’t ever be sorry. But if we’re doing that when your dad comes home he’s going to ban me from the house.” He rested his forehead on Kurt’s shoulder and tried to get his breathing under control.

“Well, at least then I could stay inside in the air conditioning like a normal person.” It would have been a more compelling comeback if Kurt’s voice hadn’t wavered a little in the middle.

“You can’t fool me. I don’t think you’re really complaining,” Blaine said, kissing Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt huffed out a laugh. “No, I’m not,” he admitted. “But we should still probably go inside and cool off a little.”

“In all senses of the word.”

“Yes.” The word was tinged with regret, and Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine’s temple. “Dad and Carole will be home soon, and I should be starting dinner.”

Closing his eyes, Blaine lay there for a second with his face against Kurt’s neck, just breathing in the salty scent of Kurt’s skin and the hint of his shampoo. It didn’t help his heartbeat to calm, but it did make the longing in his chest settle down.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered against Blaine’s hair.

“It’s okay. There will be other days.”

“But I liked _today_.”

“It’s _okay_ ,” Blaine said again. “We’ve still got the rest of the summer ahead of us.”

Kurt smiled at him, warm and bright, and, after another soft kiss, led him into the house.

(A minute later he sent Blaine back out to fetch the forgotten lemonade. They had it with dinner, and Blaine had to admit that it was perfect when properly chilled.)


End file.
